Authors: JenniferKacey
Fighting him?
Winning?
Losing?
No.
She shook her head and started to crawl away.
Doctore hauled her to her feet, and she fought for more than just her freedom. And not for show. She truly fought to get away. She’d made a mistake. Why had Layla done this to her?
As if conjured from her thoughts, Layla stepped into the ring just as Doctore grabbed a fistful of KC’s hair to force her head back.
Dressed in a Roman woman’s gown, Layla approached her. As she neared, she glanced to the men who’d brought in the women. “Take the others away.” Her gaze found KC’s again and her voice was filled with sympathy. “We’ve found the one we want.”
KC tried to shake her head, but the man holding her hair wouldn’t allow it.
“Yes. She’s the one we want.” He turned his attention back to KC. “And she’s the lady of this house and you’ll do as she says.”
“I won’t fight him,” KC told Layla when she knew she was close enough to hear her.
“Oh yes, you will.” Her smile was genuine as she held her cheeks.
“I was supposed to fight Crixus.”
Men picked up and hauled the rest of the slaves away.
Layla looked up at the man holding, KC. “Leave us.”
“As you wish.” Slowly, he released her and to her own surprise she stayed on her feet.
Layla took a key from her pocket and unlocked the cuffs at her wrist and ankles, handing them to Doctore before he exited the ring. “We were substituting a fighter, which gave them the opportunity to do the same.” Layla circled her and stood behind her, removing the rags of clothing she had on to hide her sports bra and boy shorts.
The doors across the stadium opened. The doors she used to enter through. The doors of the Gladi-Rapers.
A lone man stood on the other side draped in a dark, hooded cloak.
The crowd yelled and cheered as the man made his way to the ring.
Not any man.
The Shadow of Death.
No.
Her Shadow of Death. The killer of the girl she used to be. Of who she wanted to be but the woman he would never want.
Layla tossed KC’s rags out of the ring to waiting fans. Pulling a roll of tape from a dress pocket, she wrapped KC’s knuckles to prepare her for the fight of her life.
When Layla finished, she fisted her hands, just as the man she loved stepped into the ring. The Cage began to lower.
“Fight,” Layla whispered in her ear and drew her attention to her one last time. “And win. For all of us.” Legions of hurt and sadness lingered in Layla’s eyes, then she turned and nodded to Creed as she passed.
At last, they were alone in the ring.
A ref entered behind Creed as they were locked inside The Cage, but the referee had enough good sense to go to a corner and stay out of the WWIII confrontation about to occur.
The need to reach for him was an ache eating her alive as she stepped into the center of the ring. He threw off his cloak, and tossed it into his corner. Fighting shorts were all that covered him. His knuckles were already wrapped.
The upward tilt of her chin as he stepped closer was only to meet his gaze as he towered over her. And her own pride, something in the back of her mind coughed up.
“Why?” she asked. “Why after all these years are you fighting tonight? Of all the nights in all the years, why tonight?”
“Because of you.” Anger resonated through his clipped words.
Anger washed over her, making her body tense. “You kicked me out. I lost one fight and you—”
“I didn’t kick you out because you lost.”
Uh…
“What?”
“I kicked you out because watching you fight is the best and worst thing I’ve ever experienced. I want you to succeed. Because you can do anything. Losing is just that. It happens to everyone.
“I lost because of you.”
“What the hell? If you can’t take responsibility for your own fights then we have a lot more issues to work out before we can—”
“You were talking to some chick. Some blonde chick. I was about to win, and I wanted to make sure you saw, because I fight for you. And you weren’t even watching.” Hurt bled into her words, slicing her from the inside out.
He stared at her, somehow moving closer without taking a step forward. “You fight for me?”
“The blonde. We’re talking about the blonde.”
“No. You’re talking about the blonde, and I’m talking about you fighting for me. When did that start?”
“The first time I stepped onto a mat when I was eighteen I’ve fought for—”
He grabbed her, hauling her against his body just as his lips crashed down on hers.
In shock, her mouth fell open, and he used it to his advantage. The breath in her lungs huffed out as her entire body relaxed into him.
After some time of him tasting her mouth, he backed away but with his arms still around her. “I’ve dreamed of you.”
“I’m no one.” She leaned into him, holding on as tight as she could with her eyes closed, breathing him in. If it was a dream, she didn’t want to wake. She’d waited a lifetime to be able to touch him. It couldn’t be over yet. Not ever.
“You’re the only one that matters. Have been for more than five years since I kicked you out the first time.”
Coldness spread through her limbs as she tried to back away, but he wouldn’t let her. “You know who I am?”
“From the moment you walked into the arena.”
“Let me go.”
“Why? So you can run? Not bloody likely.”
“But you never said a word, and I look completely different now. I’m all grown up.”
He gazed at her, some emotion clear on his face she couldn’t concentrate enough to comprehend. “Your eyes are the same. And your smile.” His fingers brushed hair off her cheek. “I’d know your smile anywhere.”
She couldn’t process…anything. She shoved away from him, paced a few feet away, and then came back. “The blonde. Who was the blonde?”
“Someone from the Huns. Sent to distract me and render you unfocused. The point of getting my attention was to tip the scales immeasurably toward victory for Ashur.”
“What a rat.” She shook her head. “But how would they know that I would be—”
“Sidetracked?”
To say it mildly
. She nodded, frowning.
“Apparently, everyone knew we had history. Not exactly what it was, because I’ve never spoken of you, and there was no record of you ever being inside these walls before a few weeks ago. Apparently, everyone saw the way I looked at you.” He stared her up and down. “And how you looked at me.”
A diversion. The woman had been nothing but a diversion, and KC’d lost the fight because of it. “When did you find out who she was?”
As they spoke the crowd hung on every word with small groups chanting their names.
“While Ashur was fucking you.” The words dripped with venom. KC almost backed away from him as he stalked closer. “She walked over there, satisfaction on her face, and I knew.”
“So you knew before you kicked me out.” The truth ripped her heart out.
“The potential of anyone else beating you and taking you for all to see?” His nostrils flared. “Never again.
Ever
.”
“But that still doesn’t answer why you’re here tonight. In The Cage with me.”
“Simple. Layla told me she was going to let you fight for them.”
“So? Why does it mat—”
His gaze bored into hers. “You. Are. Mine. You’ve been mine forever, and I was just too stubborn to admit it, until now.”
Her right hook came out of nowhere, smashing into his jaw. The hit resonated up her arm, and the crowd gasped.
The ref took a step forward, and Creed held a hand up to stay him.
“I thought maybe we could just talk this out but the crowd is expecting a fight,” Creed ground out.
“Fuck the crowd,” she seethed. “
I’m
expecting a fight.”
Something akin to pride filled his grin. “God forbid I deny a lady what she expects.” He sauntered back a couple steps, settling into his fighting stance. “If I win, we talk. Really talk.” He looked around. “And not here. No lights. No people. No distance between us.”
“And if I win. You fuck me. Here and now. Then you let me go. For good. And I’m not going easy on you just because you haven’t been training.”
“Bring it,” he sneered. “I’m always training, sweetheart. May the best fighter win.”
With a deep breath, and lust and adrenaline fighting for dominance in her veins, she brought up her fists. “Don’t worry. She will.” She didn’t wait for the ref, and she didn’t give Creed any additional warning.
She attacked with everything she had in the most important fight of her life.
One where the prize was her heart, and for once, she didn’t know if she was strong enough to beat her opponent. But losing wasn’t an option. Putting her heart on the line wasn’t something she could handle, not when she’d be forced to let him go. For once and for all, she had to prove to herself she was worthy of the man before her. And then she could finally walk away. She could leave and never look back, even though the thought of never seeing him again made her want to weep.
But this was what he wanted. Her gone. Out of his hair. No longer his concern.
Attacking again, she tried one last time to find the emotionless void she normally fought inside. One last time she had to beat unwinnable odds.
Once and for all, she had to be enough.
***
For what felt like hours, they circled each other, and he eyed the girl who was now a warrior.
He ached from how many times she’d gotten through his defenses.
And not just his arms or legs.
Inside, his chest something ached.
Something he thought long dead.
Emotion was not something he was used to. He’d created a world of sex and violence. A buffer of sorts to make money and get off on, but that was it.
The business insulated him from the world at large, and yet the pint-sized woman in front of him was immune to everything he’d put in place to keep her away.
Fate, something whispered in the back of his head. He’d never believed in it before, but yet here she stood, glaring at him.
Sneering. “Why are you really here?” She yelled as she advanced again, kick after kick connecting with his body.
“Teaching you a lesson.” He swept her feet out from under her when she stayed too long within his reach.
She flipped back up within seconds. “What lesson?”
He used his body as if it were a battering ram and took her down on the mat. Grappling with more than just her body, he whispered to her. “That you’re mine. I’m never letting you go again.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist, torquing her upper body hard to throw him off balance. Rolling with her onto his back, he placed himself in a more vulnerable position. She seemed to pause for a second when she realized he’d done it on purpose.
Losing her focus wasn’t something she did often, but he sure as hell used her lapse to his advantage. “Each match you fought as a Raper, this was the point I’d start getting so pissed off I’d have to convince myself to stay out of The Cage.”
As he pulled her closer, she fought his hold and twisted above him. “What part?” She clenched her teeth as she struggled.
He rolled her again, trapping her beneath him and ground his engorged cock against her pussy. “This part. Guy or girl, it didn’t matter. They were close to you. Here.” He rubbed against her again. And again, because it felt so fucking good, he couldn’t stop.
She seemed as stunned as he felt as he peeled the sports bra off her and tossed it aside. His lips and teeth latched onto one of her nipples, and her back arched off the mat.
“I can smell how wet you are. How bad you need me to make it better.”
“So bad,” she whispered as if she was on the verge of tears.
“I’ve been pissed ever since you showed up.”
She struggled anew, somehow scrambling out from beneath him, but he caught her ankle and drug her back.
On her stomach with him between her thighs again, he laid on top of her with a hand around her throat so she couldn’t move. “You’re not leaving this time. We’re going to talk this out.”
Arching her back, she rolled her ass against his dick, and he squeezed her throat, cutting off her ability to breathe.
Widening his thighs effectively widened hers, and he forced a hand between them. When he rubbed her pussy through her boy shorts, how affected she was by him shorted out his head. “You’re so fucking wet.”
He relaxed the hand around his throat, and she sucked in a huge breath.
Just as she started to struggle again, he tightened his grip and rubbed her clit. “I’m not pissed at you. I’m pissed because you weren’t mine. I’m so fucking possessive of you, and I couldn’t keep you out of the ring. I couldn’t keep the other fighters from sharing a piece of what was mine.”
Her body shook as he released his grip again.
“I’m gonna come,” she whispered as her body started to shake uncontrollably. “That can’t be.”
“Come for me. Fuck, I need it.” With a near-crushing grip, he latched onto her windpipe. “And I’m not letting you breathe again until you do.” Tiny convulsions wracked her body as he slipped his hand beneath her shorts. “Fuck,” he cursed as his cock throbbed hard enough a single jet of cum escaped his body.
Drenched. Her slick folds were so wet his fingers slid right inside her pussy. Her sex sucked them in, and he shoved them in deep.
Deeper.
The walls of her sex fluttered around his slick digits as he fucked them in and out of her. Learning every inch of her as he was meant to.
Her spine nearly jackknifed as she came. He laid on one leg of the bottom half of her body and she pulled the other leg close to her chest to try to get away.
All she ended up doing was opening herself further for him. To pleasure her, to take her. “Mine,” he whispered.
That’s when she passed out.
Instantly, her body went limp, and he thought to release the pressure on her throat, but he already had. Now, he had no idea how long she’d had the ability to breathe.
The ref approached, and Creed snarled at the man as he attempted to touch his woman.
Slowly, the man backed away as Creed rolled KC over. He pushed her hair out of her face, and a couple seconds later her eyes blinked open. After one big breath, she looked to the side and latched onto his gaze. “What happened? Did you choke me out?” Her eyes widened in what he could only assume was sexual awakening, and he nodded.